


The Captain Swan Life

by pirateherokillian (Pirateherokillian)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-11 10:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateherokillian/pseuds/pirateherokillian
Summary: A collection of my Captain Swan prompt fics from Tumblr.





	1. 'You did all this for me?'

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to archive all my prompt fics here finally. We'll start with the most recent one I've posted!
> 
> The prompt for this one was 'You did all of this for me?'.

“You sure you don’t want to join in, love?” Killian stepped closer to her in that way that was uniquely his, his head tilted to the side. A soft, suggestive smile spread across his face. “I know the lad would hardly object.”

Emma couldn’t help from smiling in return, allowing him to pull her closer with his hand on her hip. Still, she gave her head a small shake. “Probably not, but…” She paused to look over her shoulder where Henry was making his way down the dock from her car, a handful of remaining supplies tucked under his arm. “After what happened with the Nautilus, I think it needs to be just you two.”

When she turned back to facing Killian, she found his attention had also drifted towards her son. “Aye,” he frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. “I’m merely concerned that-” He shook his head slightly, attention dropping to the lightly bobbing wood they were standing on.

“Hey…” Emma reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, drawing his uncertain blue gaze back to her. She brushed her thumb over his stubble. “This was Henry’s idea, remember? He wants you here.”

After a moment, Killian nodded. “Yeah.” He tried to offer her a smile she knew was meant to make her feel he’d been thoroughly reassured. Emma saw right through it though and it made her determination for the planned weekend all that much stronger.

“Everything cool?” Henry questioned from behind her, finally having reached the pair. 

Killian cleared his throat as Emma turned to look at her son. “Aye, lad,” She felt him squeeze her hip. “Just telling your mum how much she’ll be missed on this outing.”

She gave a playful roll of her eyes. “Like he’s not gonna enjoy the chance to tell you stories he knows I probably don’t want you hearing.” She stepped away from Killian’s touch just as the pirate scoffed at her completely spot on accusation, bringing her hands up to rest on Henry’s shoulders. “All set?”

Henry nodded, looking from Killian to her. “Yep.” There was a gleam in his dark eyes that indicated he got the double meaning of her question. 

Nodding, she brushed a kiss to his forehead. “Have fun, then.” Emma nudged him past her towards the Jolly Roger’s gangplank, eyeing Killian with mock-sternness as she turned. “Don’t let this one fill your head with too much pirate nonsense.”

“Easy now, Swan…” Killian was stepping towards her again, the sudden menace in his tone having absolutely no heat to it. “It’s the pirate nonsense that made this dashing fella standing before you.”

“Mmmm,” She hummed in response as he leaned in to give her a soft, lingering kiss. His hand came up to grip firmly at her elbow

“I love you,” Killian whispered as he pulled away, letting his hand drop as he started to step backwards towards the gangplank. 

Emma smiled. “I love you too. Be safe.” She called out to him as he made his way up to his ship.

“You as well, love.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll just be here in Storybrooke.”

Killian quirked an eyebrow and stopped halfway up the gangplank to give her a significant look. “My point exactly.” With that he waggled his fingers in her direction and continued the rest of the way onto the deck of the Jolly. 

Emma stood there watching for a few more minutes as the two prepped the ship for their planned weekend adventure, and then turned and started to make her way back towards the bug. When she reached it, she paused a moment to take a glance in the trunk at the front. A few crates sat there and she looked up to watch as the Jolly Roger started to make its way out to sea. 

She pulled on a deep, determined breath and slammed the trunk close. Now it was time to start on her own planned adventure for the weekend.

——-

“So what did you have in mind?”

Emma straightened up from the crate she had just set down on the floor to find her mother looking about the room curiously. There really wasn’t much to look at, but Emma was hoping to change that before the next two days were over. 

“Well,” She brushed her hands down the front of her jeans and stepped over to Snow. She followed her mother’s lead and took a look at the bare walls around them. Emma then gave Snow a slightly helpless look. “I’m not really sure?” She rushed on before she could get any sort of pitying look for her lack of creativity when it came to home redecoration. “I just know I want to make it something special. For him.”

Snow smiled softly and then turned to look at the few crates Emma had piled up near door. She stepped over to start perusing through them. “And that’s what all this is?” Her green eyes found Emma’s green. “Something special?”

Biting a bit at her lip, Emma crossed her arms over her chest. Uncertainty suddenly felt like it was weighing her whole body down like lead. “I hope so?”

Understanding dawned on Snow’s face and she gave a sharp nod before looking back down to the items piled up before her. “Well then…” That determination so iconic it was literally written in a storybook seemed to visibly overtake her mother’s whole being. She reached in and pulled out one of the things right on top and looked up at Emma. “We have a room to decorate.”

Emma grinned and felt some of the uncertainty drain from her body.

——-

The uncertainty was back as she spun around nervously in the comfortable desk chair her mother had somehow managed to locate during what they had dubbed ‘Mission Study’ over the course of their adventure in room redecorating. In truth, Emma was in awe of the number of things  _ both _ of her parents (and seven dwarves at their beck and call) had been able to pull together in just two days. It was almost like they had a magic of their own when it came to accomplishing a task. 

And accomplish they had. Where the room she was currently spinning around in had once been bare and maybe a little bleak, it now was a place that felt fitting for a pirate captain of Killian Jones’ nature to make his own. 

At least she hoped he would want to make it his own. 

Emma couldn’t help but second guess herself now that he was on his way home, having just finished docking the Jolly from his weekend excursion out with Henry. Her son had already texted saying he’d be heading over to Regina’s for the night and while Emma was grateful for his foresight into how her evening could go, she was now realizing maybe her own rashness wouldn’t work out in anybody’s favor.

Stopping the chair just as the giant desk came back around into view, Emma reached forward and snatched up one of the glasses of rum she’d poured in hopeful anticipation. She slugged back the liquid quickly, gasping as she set the glass back on the desk. 

Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, she leaned over and opened the cabinet that she’d stocked with the bottles of her boyfriend’s favorite drink. She picked up the one she’d already opened, intending to refill the empty glass.

She was just screwing off the top when she heard keys in the door downstairs. 

“Swan?” Killian called out even before he had the door completely closed. 

Emma sucked in a steadying breath as she poured the rum. “Upstairs.” She called back, rescrewing the cap back on and leaning over to replace the bottle before closing the cabinet.

Killian started to talking to her as he quickly ascended the stairs. “You alright, love?” She felt a little guilty for the concern in his voice. “You said you couldn’t make it down to the docks, so I came home as soon as I could and-” It was obvious he’d reached the second floor and had discovered she wasn’t in their bedroom. 

Rising from the chair, Emma slowly made her way around the desk at his hesitant footsteps in her direction. His shadow preceded him into the room, growing long across the floor as he stopped just inside the doorway. 

“Bloody hell.” He breathed, taking in his new surroundings before his eyes found her leaning back against the desk in what she hoped was a casual pose. “Emma?”

“Hi.” She answered simply, smiling softly.

Killian didn’t respond, stepping further into the room as he held his hand out in curious wonder. Emma watched as he slowly took in everything, from the giant desk and chair with the floor to ceiling bookcase against the wall behind them, to the plush couch and reading chair near the opposite wall, and all the various trinkets and knick knacks in between that Henry had helped her get off the Jolly Roger. He stopped in the middle of the room and Emma moved over towards him as he continued to gaze around, mouth open slightly in shock.

“What do you think?” She inquired softly.

“I…” Killian shook his head, looking at her. “I…” Emma felt a fluttering in her chest and rendering her usually extremely verbose boyfriend speechless. It wa then something caught Killian’s attention out of the corner of his eye and he turned his head towards the wall to his left. 

Emma held her breath as he finally noticed the two things in the room she’d been the most nervous about since her son had found them on Killian’s ship. She watched as tears welled up in Killian’s eyes as he stared at the slips of paper now framed and hanging on a wall on their home.

“You did all this for me?” He finally whispered, looking back towards her as the tears finally slipped down his cheeks. 

Emma shrugged simple. “Yeah, of course.” She reached up and wiped as his cheek with her thumb, brushing the wetness away as he fell over his scar there. 

Killian swallowed and shifted on his feet, bringing his hand to clasp at the front of his belt. His gaze dropped to the floor and he gave a small shake of his head. “Why?” He asked with an almost childlike uncertainty.

Taking a hold of his hook, Emma pulled him over to the wall he’d just been staring at. “Because this is your home too, Killian. And I don’t want you to ever think you have to hide stuff away and feel like you can’t make it your own.” With her free hand, she pointed at the papers. 

“Henry found these buried in a drawer on your ship.” 

Killian swallowed again and looked up at her hesitantly. “It was so long ago, Emma… I didn’t think-”

“That you could be proud of your Navy diploma?” Emma cut him off. “Babe, that’s a pretty big deal.”

“It’s just a very old piece of paper.” Killian tried to shrug it off.

“That reminds everyone how smart and determined and dedicated you are, Killian.” She reached up and brushed her fingers through his hair over his ear before bringing them around the back of his neck to play with the ends of his hair there. “ _ I _ want everyone to remember that next time they try to treat you like a pirate.”

Killian licked his lips. “I  _ am  _ a pirate.”

“Yeah, a highly intelligent,” Emma pressed up on her toes and pressed a kiss against his jawline. “Highly educated.” Another kiss. “Ancient Greek-knowing and waltz-dancing,” she pressed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Extremely  _ sexy _ ,” his eyes flashed and a smirk started to tilt up the side of his mouth. “Pirate.” She finished before pressing her lips directly to his in a searing kiss.

Killian practically melted into her, bringing his arms around her to hoist her up. She gasped into his mouth, anchoring herself against him with her arms around his neck. She felt herself being carried and then the press of the desk against the back of her knees. She settled back, letting Killian lean further into her as they kissed.

After what felt like an eternity of his mouth fused to hers, Killian pulled up and stared at her reverently as his chest heaved. She was equally out of breath and leaned back on her hands. Her wrist brushed up against one of the glasses of rum still sitting there. She turned her head to look down at it just as Killian’s hook tapped lightly at it’s rim.

“My darling Swan,” He rasped and she looked back to him. He smirked and brushed his thumb across her lip. “Were you sampling the wares without me?”

Emma blushed and straightened up. “Well, I kinda walked off with a bunch of a pirate’s treasures without him knowing.” She admitted as she brushed her hair back over her ear. “Needed a bit of liquid courage in case he got mad.”

Killian’s gaze softened and he reached up to run the back of his fingers along her cheek. “Emma, I could never.” He squinted and shook his head. “Overwhelmed, perhaps…” he looked around the room again, seeming to take in more of the things that were indeed from his own ship than he had before. “And unsure whether to be impressed or insulted you and Henry pirated all of this out from under his own nose…”

His eyes found her again and there was such affection there it almost made her feel like passing out.

“But most certainly not mad.”

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck again. “So what about welcomed and loved?” She smiled hopefully.

Killian grinned and rested his hook against her hip. “Aye, Swan.” He nodded before reaching up and pulling her snugly against him with his hand to the back of her head. She buried her face against his chest and sighed happily as he placed a kiss into her hair.


	2. Wrong Day Wedding Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: -We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years AU- established relationship fluff is always good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tweaked this prompt a little bit.

“Okay, so what day were you thinking for David’s birthday party?”

Emma sat patiently, phone balanced between her ear and shoulder and thick-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, waiting as an unsure ‘umm’ sound from her sister-in-law and some paper shuffling passed over the phone line. She glanced up briefly at the muted rugby game flickering away on the tv screen, then down to her husband resting drowsily against her hip. 

If it wasn’t for the back of his fingers brushing up and down the side of her thigh lazily, she would assume he was sleeping. Emma certainly wouldn’t blame him. He’d had a lot of tourist charters out on the Jolly the past several weeks. The steady flow of out-of-towners clambering to get the ‘authentic pirate experience’ often left Killian dead on his feet before too long. Still, he tried to get in as many tours as he could before the fall weather became a little to unbearable out on the water.

It was partly why Emma and Mary Margaret now took time to try and hammer out their schedules. Between Killian’s charters and her sister-in-law’s teaching schedule, it wasn’t quite as easy to have get togethers as it had been in college. Gone were the spontaneous weekend trips decided last minute… At least for their larger group of friends. Her husband always still managed to find a way to sneak some in here and there.

Emma smiled as she remembered their last random weekend trip a couple months earlier, just before the summer had started. She began to run her fingertips through Killian’s messy hair, a small hum of approval rising up from the back of his throat, as she recalled the little beach cabin up the coast where he’d driven her to ‘just because they could.’ That way of thinking had been a cornerstone of their relationship since it had begun, really.

‘September 14th.’ Mary Margaret finally chimed in across the phone line, loud and triumphant. ‘That’s when I figured we’d have his party.’

“That’s our wedding anniversary, M.” Emma sighed absentmindedly, she was so caught up in her thoughts of Killian. Her eyes went wide a moment later when she realized what she had said, just as Killian pulled his head away from her side to give her his own wide-eyed stare, one eyebrow quirked questioningly. 

Her mouth fell open a little and she shook her head at him, shrugging helplessly. 

‘Umm, nooo…’ Mary Margaret pulled the words out in confusion and Emma could once again hear a couple papers shuffling over the line. ‘Your wedding anniversary is October 12th, Emma…’

“Right… yeah…” Emma frantically flipped a page over in her own planner on her lap and saw the very date her sister had just pointed out circled in red several times with a million exclamation points drawn in the center. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I had written…” By now, Killian was sitting up fully, hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh outright. She scowled and kicked out at him as best she could. “You know, I’m really tired -  _been_  really tired. Killian’s had a lot more charters than usual this summer and we’re both pretty beat…”

Truth was, Killian looked far more alert in that moment then he had all evening, dodging easily away from another pitiful kick attempt from Emma. She was half-tempted to throw her planner at his head. She opted for her pen instead. He batted that away, mirth making his face red as he bit at his bottom lip and grabbed onto the top her left ankle. She stuck her tongue out at him.

‘Oh, sweetie.’ Mary Margaret sighed in understanding across the line, oblivious to the battle between husband and wife on the other side. ‘Why don’t we try and finish this up tomorrow after you’ve gotten some sleep.’

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Emma squeaked out as her husband started to crawl his way up the bed towards her. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, M.” She didn’t even wait to hear her sister’s goodbye before ending the call and letting her phone thump to the carpet next to the bed. The planner was quick to follow.

“Six years…” Killian laughed out as he settled in beside her, his back now to the tv screen and full attention towards her. His left hip brushed against hers. “ _Six_  bloody years we’ve been good about not botching the dates, Swan…” He leaned in close, his lips hovering millimeters from hers. “And you go and blow the whole damn thing in a second.”

Emma accepted the amused and affectionate kiss he gave her before pushing him back after a moment. “It was your fault!” She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest petulantly. 

His mouth fell open. “How the bloody hell-”

She pulled one hand free to wave towards his hair. “Because of that,” The hand moved down to wave around his bare torso, some of his intricate tattoos and his mass of chest hair exposed to her. “And that, and,” Emma moved her hand around to indicate all of him. “Just you. I was so caught up in my own thoughts over you that I,” Killian’s eyebrow jerked up again, this time in that cocky flirty way that caused her insides to go to mush, and she groaned. 

Both her hands came up to cover her face. “Shit, I can’t believe I just did that.” She laughed incredulously into her palms. She groaned again and let her upper body fall forward so her face, still covered by her hands, were buried again the top of her thighs. She immediately felt warm against her back where Killian had dropped himself over her. 

“Oh love,” He murmured into her shoulder before placing a kiss here. “You can’t help that I’m so devilishly attractive.” His teasing laugh made her attempt to reach back and slap at him as best she could. “And if you recall, I let our little secret slip to Liam some time ago.”

Emma sat back up, causing Killian to resume his position beside her. “You had the excuse of being absolutely shitfaced when you told him, though.” The blush that spread across her husband’s face at mention of that one rum-soaked night with his brother made her insides do the mush thing from before yet again, and Emma leaned into give him a kiss this time. He hummed into her mouth, wrapping his arm around her and laying her back against the pillows. He maneuvered himself over her and broke his lips away from hers so he could start to trail them down the side of her neck. 

“What’s my excuse?” She sighed as he continued to kiss his way down her body.

“Could say you’re drunk on me?” He suggested with a smile as he brought his eyes up to find hers. 

She scoffed playfully, pushing against his face until he fell sideways back onto the bed next to her. Killian laughed into the mattress quietly, and then shifted so he was snuggled up against her side once more. She sighed and slouched down a little further, letting her fingers find their place in his hair once more. Quiet settled over the room as the pair situated themselves comfortably back on the bed.

“You know,” He let out a yawn after a moment, nuzzling his nose against her hip. “We probably should tell everyone one of these days that we actually  _did_  get married in Vegas, three years before they all think we did.”


	3. Cat-astrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: dating best friend’s sister trope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, this was written as a gift for CSSV 18, but it's short enough that it works as an addition here.

Everything had been going just bloody  _fine_  - they had been flying cleanly under the snooping radar of their friends and family for almost a year. Nobody seemed to suspect that he and Emma, beloved little sister of his best mate, had become so much more than they’d ever been before. Alibis and excuses were always rock solid, suspicions never raised due to the cleverly constructed system they’d come up with. **  
**

It was working for them…

And then they’d tripped up.

Or more literally  _he’d_  been tripped up.

All thanks to possibly the worst cat on the planet.

—–

“I hate cats.” Killian grumbled pathetically, his words coming out thick and garbled thanks to the swelling that had taken over what felt like his entire face.

Emma gave him a placating stare from where she sat next to his bed in the emergency room. She eased his hand holding the ice pack back where he was supposed to have it resting against his face. “You love cats. You have two yourself.”

He rolled his eyes and then winced, earning a smug look from his girlfriend. “Okay, I hate Henry’s cat.” He attempted to glare at her through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.

Green eyes glared right back. “Would you quit it? Henry already feels bad enough as it is that you’re here. He hears you saying stuff like that…”

“Alright, sorry.” Killian conceded. He let out a sigh and then winced again when even that minor movement sent pain shooting all over his face. “It just bloody hurts.”

“I know…” Emma soothed, reaching up to gently brush some of the hair back from his eyes. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m still not even sure how it all happened so fast.”

Killian wanted to agree, but he unfortunately could recall every vivid detail. Standing just outside Swan’s backdoor, not a damn care in the world - certainly no excruciating pain trying to split his skull in half. They’d been discussing lunch, Emma just inside in the kitchen. There’d been joking about missing whatever weird restaurant Mary Margaret had convinced all their friends to try that afternoon, an outing they’d weaseled their way out of with their varied excuses (Henry needs help with a project, the Jolly needs a bit of maintenance…). And then, out of nowhere, Henry was shouting about Chewie escaping just past Killian’s ankles.

Off Killian had gone, scrambling to catch the little demon hellbeast that had never taken much of a shine to him. Around and around they’d gone, over toys and lawn furniture, under and through bushes. Emma and Henry had come outside to help, and they’d almost had the damn creature cornered and on the verge of capture when it shimmied its way between Killian’s legs, causing him to lose his foot and…

Faces and concrete decks were not made to meet.

“S’alright, love.” Killian shifted, cringing with the movement, but still reaching out for her hand with his free one. “Not your fault… or Henry’s.” He attempted a reassuring smile despite the pain it caused him. “Though I am now damn convinced that cat is trying to destroy me.”

Emma snorted. “He does really hate you.”

“Well, feelings mutual then.” His smile had grown sarcastic. He watched Emma roll her eyes, still offering her own small smile. It quickly faded into a slight frown as her gaze dropped to stare at the white sheets on his bed. “Swan?”

She glanced up sharply. “What are we,” She bit at her lip and shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “You… what are you gonna say happened? And how you managed to drive yourself to the E.R.?”

Killian had been so wrapped up in… well, being in blinding pain, that he hadn’t even stopped to consider the story he’d have to come up with. They stared at each other a second, slight panic passing between them, before Killian shook his head as much as he could without hurting himself.

“Don’t worry about it, love.” He pulled on her with their still connected hands. She rose from her seat, stepping closer to him. “I’ll figure something out, like always.” He shrugged. “Can say I took a nasty tumble on the Jolly’s deck. Wouldn’t be the first time…” Killian lowered the ice pack so he could very gently press his forehead to hers. She pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Nobody need know I was bested by your son’s hellcat.”

“Oh.”

Henry’s voice from the doorway drew their attention. They saw the boy standing there with the guiltiest look on his face. And just behind him, a red-faced David Nolan and a wide-eyed Mary Margaret looking on in shock.

“I sorta already told Aunt M we were here?” Henry confessed.

Emma took a small step away from Killian, who sat frozen under the angry glare his best friend was giving him. “Oh…” She said in a tone similar to Henry’s from a moment ago. “Henry, that’s-”

“What the hell?!” David brushed past his nephew, stalking up to the foot of the bed. “You’re dating my sister?!”

Killian felt his hackles rise at the overly protective tone of his friend’s voice. “I’m quite alright, Dave. Thanks for asking.” He smiled sassily, being sure to give Emma’s hand a squeeze just for good measure.

“You won’t be when I’m done with you.” David snapped, causing shouts from both his sister and his wife. Who stepped into the room to come between her husband and his best friend.

“I’m sorry, he’s had a bit too much wine at lunch.” Mary Margaret sighed before turning a glare on David. He still appeared ticked off, but buckled under her scrutiny and stomped towards the window, crossing his arms in a huff. “Happy to see it’s nothing too serious, Killian. All Henry said was you were in the emergency room with him and his mom, and that you’d been hurt. _David_ ,” She looked to her husband pointedly, who refused to meet her gaze. “Was frantic to get here and see that you were alright.” She glanced between Killian and Emma. “We tried calling your cell phones, but neither picked up.”

It was Emma’s turn to wince. “I think we might’ve forgotten them at home?” She gave Killian a look between guilt and affection. “He just smacked the ground so hard and his nose was bleeding and he was in a lot of pain…” Her green eyes found Mary Margaret’s again. “I was just frantic to get Killian here and looked at.”

“Maybe if he was on his boat like he  _said_  he was gonna be, he wouldn’t  _need_  to be looked at.”

Killian rolled his eyes, the same pain every time he’d done it before flaring up yet again.

Emma was quick to turn on her brother this time. “David, I swear to God-”

“That’s okay, Emma.” Mary Margaret grit out, trying to sound understanding despite her husband’s attitude. “There’s clearly a lot that we need to talk about, but I think I should go take David to get some coffee and have a cool down, yeah?” She stepped back, once more glaring at David as she held out her hand to the open doorway.

David grumbled but started moving. Mary Margaret had almost managed to usher him out of the room when he stopped again and turned to point at Killian. “You and me are having a serious discussion later.”

“I gathered…” Killian replied, feeling both defensive and guilt-ridden. He watched as Mary Margaret shoved him out into the hallway and towards the commissary. His one open blue eye found Henry, who had slumped in the chair near the door.

“No offense, lad…” He muttered petulantly. “But I bloody hate your cat.”


	4. Better Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian are gonna give their daughter Christmas, even if it's a bit late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another gift, this one for CS Secret Santa 2017. Posted _slightly_ late, hence the theme.

Killian stood against the wall near the stairs, sipping occasionally from the mug of rum-laced hot cocoa as he observed his wife’s frazzled grumbling from their living room floor. Her lap was awash in harsh, colorful lights, a jumbled spiderweb of cords creating a haphazard circle around her. **  
**

“You sure you don’t need a hand, love?” He questioned in an amused tone. It earned him a green-eyed glare, though the pout on her face made the menace of it practically non-existent. He took another sip from his warm drink.

“You’re not funny.”

Swallowing, Killian licked at his lips and pushed off the wall. “I’m  _quite_  the comedian, actually.” He nodded as he slowly stepped in her direction. “It’s not my fault,” He tiptoed over strands of mismatched lights, coming to a crouch at her side. “Your sense of humor isn’t exactly present at the moment.” At her continued glare, he held out his mug towards her. “Maybe this will help, hmm?”

“Oh yes, getting drunk is gonna help so much.” Emma scoffed, managing to untangle her fingers from the troublesome strand in her hand to shove the drink back towards him lightly. “We’re already two weeks late, Killian. I wanted this year to be so special and thanks to us being…” She waved her hand around her in frustration. “Us, off realm hopping to keep this damn place safe from yet another dumb villain, it’s late and basically we’re the worst parents ever and she’s not even two yet!”

Killian stared at her patiently, once more reaching the rum-chocolate out towards her. He shook it a fraction, one brow raising in suggestion. As he suspected, Emma caved upon the second offering, taking it with an aggravated growl before pulling a healthy slug from the mug. “This isn’t gonna help.” She mumbled before moving to take another, smaller sip.

Hand now free, Killian started to extract his wife from the mound of wiring she’d managed to cover herself in. Emma whined in protest, mouth full of warm beverage, but didn’t make any move to stop his. She whined even more as he started to pull her to her feet, still not putting any effort into trying to get him to quit.

“I beg to differ, Swan.” He took one of her hands from where it was wrapped around the mug, using it to guide her away from the lights and toward the coffee table. The surface was littered in boxes and he unceremoniously shoved them to the floor with his hook, earning an exasperated ‘Killian’ from Emma. He ignored it, choosing instead to guide her so she was seated on the sturdy wood. She plopped down with a sigh, glancing up at him. “It’ll help you relax.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but took another sip from the cup anyways. “I don’t need to relax. I need to make it Christmas for our daughter like we didn’t already fuck it up.”

Taking the mug and setting it off to the side, Killian crouched down again. He pressed his hook against her knee and placed his hand against her cheek, slowly brushing his thumb against her warm skin. “We didn’t fuck it up, Emma.” The look she gave him was incredulous. It didn’t deter him. “As you said, our girl isn’t hardly two. She’s not gonna know the difference between the actual holiday and two weeks later. Especially not when those two weeks were spent frolicking around Arabian palaces and the snow banks of Arendelle.”

Emma snorted and grabbed for the drink again, causing Killian to sit back on his heels. His hook was still firmly anchored to her knee, the curve of it brushing up and down in small, soothing strokes. “I guess you’re right.” She shrugged reluctantly. She glanced down into the mug, thumb moving over the ceramic surface. “I just want her to have as normal a life as possible, you know?”

The way she looked at him, so earnest and open - trusting in a way that still made his heart soar, had Killian offering an understanding smile. “I know.” He leaned in and pressed a comforting kiss against her lips. When he pulled away, he didn’t go too far, resting his forehead against hers. “But darling, her parents are the Savior and Captain Hook.” He whispered conspiratorially, causing her to snort. It made him smirk. “Normal isn’t really what we deal in.”

“Just wit and rum.” She replied with humor in her voice.

Killian pulled back fully, smile widening as he went. “Aye.” He patted at her leg. “Now what say I get to work on untangling these dreadful lights while you fetch said rum? Might as well have a bit of fun while we go, hmm?” He lowered his gaze to look at her imploringly.

“Not fair.” She grumbled good-naturedly, leaning in to press their foreheads together once again. “You know I can’t resist the puppy pirate eyes.”

“Nor rum.” Killian whispered triumphantly.

Emma stuck out her tongue to blow an immature raspberry before kissing him again.

—–

In the end, they’d manage to get the majority of the decorations up without much fuss. Too much rum, perhaps, but Killian was more than willing to suffer the headache the next morning if the memories of Emma giggling her way through Christmas songs as she hung baubles on their half-priced fake Christmas tree was the payoff.

Even more worth it was the look of pure delight on his daughter’s face as Emma had carried her downstairs while he’d been preparing their morning coffee. She’d squealed in that way that was only hers, scrambling to get down from Emma’s arms so she could toddle her way towards the tree, where it seemed the glitz of the decorations was much more fascinating than the mound of presents underneath.

“Some pirate, that one.” Killian had muttered good-naturedly while handing Emma her cup.

She took it, not hesitating to take a hearty sip as she settled in against his side. “She still went for the pretty shiny shit, babe.” She offered with a grin, her free hand rubbing up and down his back.

The rest of the morning had consisted of two slightly hungover adults and one ecstatic toddler ooh-ing and aah-ing over all the pretty decorations around their house, before tearing into her gifts with a fervor that was only natural to a little girl lovingly spoiled by her parents. Emma’s parents had shown up around noon with the little prince, and the two children had gone to town with all of the new toys added to the collection that day.

Now Killian found himself relaxed back into the couch, his daughter in his lap, drowsily fiddling with one of her new plush friends - a crocodile, curse David and his sense of humor. His living room was a sea of playthings and bits of wrapping that had been missed in the initial clean up, and even the long-lived lieutenant in him couldn’t find a damn to give over the mess of it all. His two lovely lasses had had a grand day, and he wasn’t about to make a fuss.

“You guys did a good job.”

Killian started slightly, looking up from where he’d been lost staring at the twinkling lights on the tree, to find his father-in-law glancing down at him as he held out the cup of coffee he’d brought from the kitchen. Adjusting slightly, doing his best not to dislodge his girl, Killian took the steaming mug with an appreciative smile.

“Thanks, mate.” He said in response to the drink and David’s previous compliment.

David took a quick pull from his own cup before depositing in on the table and throwing himself back into the armchair next to Killian’s side of the couch. “Though don’t think I didn’t notice the empty bottle of rum in the garbage earlier.” He gave Killian a mock look of disapproval. “You’ve taught my daughter bad habits, pirate.”

“Can’t fault my  _wife_  for having excellent taste, your majesty.” Killian snarked back with an eyebrow raise. David snorted and rolled his eyes before closing them and relaxing deeper into the plush cushioning at his back. “Where’d Neal get to?”

Waving an errant hand in the general direction of the kitchen, David didn’t even bother to open his eyes as he answered. “Helping Snow and Emma put away dinner…” He peeked one eye open and turned his head to glance at Killian. “You know how excited he gets about clean-up.” He settled back again and closed his eyes once more. “Gets that from Snow.”

“Yes, and I know where Emma gets her cleaning habits from…”

“Hey, now.” Emma’s voice broke in before David had a chance to respond. Killian’s eyes followed her as she made her way over to him. “Not all of us went to the cleaning stick up the ass class at Naval Academy.”

“Emma, language!” Snow called from the kitchen, her voice carrying over the running water from the sink. “There’s kids around!”

Standing at the back of the couch, Emma gave Killian a saucy wink. “Oh, if she only knew.” She mumbled before leaning down and giving him a kiss from where he was looking upwards at her. Killian chuckled in the affirmative as their lips pressed together. “You didn’t hear that, dad.” She said as she pulled away, glancing to her right at her father.

David held up his hands in acquiescence. “I’m not the secret teller in this family.” He flinched as Snow’s ‘I heard that!’ carried in from the kitchen. “Oh, she doesn’t hear you guys, but me she hears…”

“True love has its downsides, Dave.” Killian teased before looking up at Emma once more. “Did you need me to help, love?”

She shook her head, placing her hand on his shoulder. “No. I was gonna head upstairs to change…” Emma looked down to her shirt, plucking at the fabric that Killian finally noticed was rather wet. “Neal is very liberal with his water usage.” She smiled at what would otherwise be an annoyance for anyone else. “Just checking to see if you wanted me to take little pirate upstairs to lay down?”

Killian looked down to their daughter still settled against his chest. It was obvious all the excitement from the day had caught up with her, her quietness an indicator more than anything else. As much as he hated to call it an end to her day, he figured it was probably best Emma did take her for a nap.

“Hope, my darling…” He murmured softly, causing sleepy blue eyes to peek up at him. “You want mama to take you to sleep?” The almost two-year-old shook her head, burying her face against his chest. “Come, little love.” He gently rubbed his hand up and down her side. “You should have a nap.”

She mumbled something into the fabric of his shirt and Killian glanced to Emma, who had leaned her arms down on the back of the couch to watch the exchange, to see if she’d understood. Emma merely shrugged, an adoring looking on her face as she watched on.

“What was that, love?”

Hope pulled back and gave him a tired, teary-eyed pout. “No -parkle uhstairs, papa.”

A heartwarming smile came to him and he snuck a look to Emma to see the same, her eyes shining with unabashed love for this child they’d brought into the world.

“You wanna sleep by the Christmas tree, babygirl?” Emma asked and Hope nodded, her eyes wide and pleading as she crushed the plush croc tightly to her cheek. Emma reached out and ran her fingers through the mess of blonde curls atop their daughter’s head. “Alrighty then.”

“Christmas camp out it is!” David cheered, still lounging in his chair. Hope looked at him and giggled, while Killian rolled his eyes towards his wife, who was still smiling madly.

—–

He once again found himself leaning against the wall by the stairs, surveying the scene in his living room. Where the night before had been piles of decorations, and just that morning a disaster zone of toys and paper, it was now a fortress of pillows and blankets and sleeping bags. Hope and Neal were conked out closest to the tree, their little faces pressed closed together. Not far from them, David and Snow had also succumbed to their exhaustion, his mother-in-law pressed up against his father-in-law’s side in the way Killian had first seen them sleep in Neverland.

It was one of the coziest pictures of domesticity he’d ever seen. His heart ached with the knowledge that at one point, it was something he’d never even imagined he’d be worthy of himself. A bloodthirsty, cold-hearted pirate, with all the history he’d blemished with darkness…

“No self-loathing tonight,” Emma whispered as she lifted his arm up so she could tuck herself in against his side. “I won’t allow it.”

Despite the gentle reproach in her tone, Killian found nothing but love in her gaze when he glanced down at her. He nodded, whispering an ‘okay’ in response before kissing her softly, breaking away a moment later to rub their noses together. She giggled and then settled her head against his shoulder. They both took a moment to appreciate the scene before them once more.

“I must say…” Killian finally whispered, squeezing her arm lightly. “Not too bad for fucking it up, eh, Swan?”

She slapped his chest gently. “You’re still not funny.”

Killian shifted his shoulders and rested his cheek atop her head. “I’m a riot, darling, and you know it.”

“Yeah…” She sighed. Her hand slid down and across his chest until it came upon his hook resting near his hip. She tugged slightly until it settled comfortably in her grip. “You’re a little funny.”

Killian hummed triumphantly, rocking her gently from side to side while leaning his head back to place a kiss into her hair.


	5. The Falcon Chisel Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to accompany [this](http://pirateherokillian.tumblr.com/post/161989316578/the-falcon-chisel-affair) piece of Captain Swan artwork. :)

Emma paused in adjusting the ratty grey wig on her head and glanced at her husband in the reflection of their bedroom mirror. He was trudging around the room with the same scowl he’d had on his face since Emma had revealed just exactly what she was planning to dress as for Halloween. That had been two days ago.

“You can’t stay grouchy much longer,” she tried to put a bit of childish whine into her tone, but she figured it came off sounding as amused as she felt by his petulance. Silly, ridiculous pirate.

“I carried a grudge for centuries,  _darling_ ,” Killian muttered as he fiddle with the utility belt around his waist. “Are you really that keen to see how long I can stay  _grouchy_?” His sharp, blue-eyed gaze snapped up to hers quickly and she could see the hint of that dangerous captain lurking in it. It simultaneously made her want to roll her eyes and sent a jolt of excitement coursing through her.

She blamed the latter on her pregnancy hormones and proceeded with the former.

“I didn’t kill anyone, Killian.”

“Just my pride.” He snarked back with his own eye-roll, gaze back on his belt.

Emma sighed and went back to her wig adjusting. “It’s just a costume.”

“It’s an insult.”

She finally turned to face him head on, one hand pressed against the flat of her back. “People say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know.”

His eyes found hers again. “And those people are bloody idiots.” With that, Killian turned on his heels and stalked out of their bedroom.

Emma let out a huff, shaking her head at his dramatics, before turning back towards the mirror. Her gaze scanned the length of her attire, from the ‘food’-stained tunic and tattered jacket to the oversized belt resting under the swell of her belly. It was near perfect, or as near perfect as she could remember. She’d even managed to pull the look together with only minimal magic.

If she was gonna be as pregnant as she was on Halloween, she could at least have a little fun, right?

—–

Wrong. So very wrong.

Emma was miserable. Not because of the costume itself, which was exceptionally comfortable in comparison to other things she’d worn in the past for Halloween. The jacket had been shed hours ago, too hot to wear for long in the confines of Granny’s when a party was going on, but otherwise it had felt like a good decision.

Up until it became obvious her husband was going to avoid her all evening. He’d been sweet for all eyes to see, seeming to take her attire in stride when their family made quips, but Emma knew Killian better than anyone. What she’d taken to be overreaction and dramatics over a silly joke of a costume seemed like it genuinely ran deeper and more hurtful for him. He’d spent most of the night with her father, a glass of rum never far from his hand. She knew from experience that a Killian who downed rum like water was a Killian in pain.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. He was in pain because of her, all over a stupid joke. And she didn’t understand why. They’d talked about her time in the wish realm, and while Killian hadn’t seemed all too pleased with how he’d turned out, it hadn’t felt like too big of an issue after they’d talked.

Not one he would avoid her over.

Emma ripped the wig from her head, her sweaty ponytail falling limply over her shoulder. She wracked her brain for some other possible costume she could conjure spur of the moment that would be less of an ‘insult’, as he’d put it. She’d prided herself so much on not using much magic to put her current look together, and now she couldn’t figure out any other way to make it better. Could the price to be paid come before the actual deed? Because Killian’s avoidance was a helluva price she’d been paying all night.

A soft knock on the door to her left caused her to jump and grip the wig still in her hand close to her chest.

“Emma, everything alright?” Killian mumbled from the other end, his voice seeming to reverberate through the door frame as if he was pressing his face close to the door.

She hastily wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice.

“You sure? You’ve been in there a while…” His tone was gentle. “Perhaps I could come in?”

Emma dropped her shoulders, the desire to seem okay fleeing her at his kind inquiry. She reached for the doorknob, flipping the lock and turning it. Killian squeezed his way in as soon as there was enough room, the metal clasps on his belt clattering against the wood as he went.

His brow furrowed as he caught sight of her. He collapsed back against the door, shutting them both in, and reached out to her. Her eyes fluttered closed as the pad of his thumb brushed at her damp cheek.

“What’s wrong, my love? Have you been sick?” It was an expected question. Her pregnancy had been plagued with bouts of morning sickness.

She shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

Killian pushed off the door and Emma placed her hand on his hip to anchor him as his balance shifted the slightest bit. He leaned in close to her, pressing their foreheads together. “You know you can always talk to me.”

“Kinda hard to talk when you’re avoiding me.” Emma blurted and he huffed out a short laugh, the scent of rum filling the space between them. She found it oddly comforting, despite everything.

He pulled back to give her one of his signature eyebrow raises and a lazy nod. “Point taken.” Reaching down, he took her hand from his hip, holding to it as he moved around her. Using his foot, he kicked down the toilet lid and proceeded to plop down on top of it, pulling her to stand between his open legs.

“I’m sorry I’ve been handling your costume poorly, love.” Killian murmured, bringing his hand around her to gently rub up and down her back. He gazed up at her apologetically, the slight haze of alcohol not hindering his sincerity. It sent a wave of familiarity rushing through her, her mind flashing back to the night he proposed the first time.

Emma wasn’t gonna let her own feelings keep her from acknowledging this was something that ran deeper, however. Not this time. “You know the talking thing goes both ways. I know you’ve been sulky over,” she gestured with her hand towards herself and her costume. “This. I thought it was just you being a little vain, like you get sometimes, but…” she looked away from him, the tears threatening to resurface.

“A harsh reminder of the worst parts of myself,” Emma’s attention snapped back to Killian at his words. He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “Is hard to express feelings over.” His focus shifted to the tunic she wore and he snorted, bringing his hand around to pluck at the fabric. “You even got the food stains.”

“Killian, we talked about this. The other Hook  _wasn’t_  you.”

The sharpness was back in those blue eyes as they glanced up at her quickly. “Aye, but it very well could’ve been.” He said it mattered of factly, as if it was the most obvious statement in the world. “One small change, one more mistake on my part,” He swallowed and shook his head, looking away from her. “I didn’t go after Belle, I didn’t side with Regina, then Cora, I didn’t let you go at Lake Nostos, I didn’t turn my ship around that day…” His attention dropped to her left hand. He reached for it, running his thumb reverently over her engagement and wedding rings.

Killian looked up to her once more. “I’d given up anywhere along the way, and I wouldn’t be here right now.” He gently prodded at her stomach with the curve of his hook. “I’d be the real thing your masquerading as tonight. That’s all it would’ve taken.”

He licked at his bottom lip and shrugged, squeezing her hand firmly. “And it bloody terrifies me.”

Emma sighed and pulled him against her, letting his cheek rest against her rounded belly. Killian let out his own sigh, releasing her hand so he could run his fingers up her hip until his hand came to rest flat against her stomach. They stayed that way for a few quiet moments, Emma threading her fingers through his hair while the racket of the party continued on the other side of the door.

“You know…” Emma casually pulled back to look down at him with amusement after a while. “Most people would see a reminder of a version of themselves they’re not as a sign of how good they’ve got it…”

Killian’s already pink cheeks flushed a little darker. “Aye, your father reminded me of that tonight after a little rum,” at Emma’s incredulous eyebrow raise, he smirked and tilted his head a fraction. “Okay, a lot of rum.”

“Whole lot.” Emma teased, tugging on his hair so he was forced to look up at her.

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly and shook his head. “Enough rum,” Killian raised his voice a fraction, but she knew it was out of a need to be theatrical and not angry. “To help me pull my head out of my arse and remind myself that,” his tone dropped again and Emma stepped back as he moved to stand, his hand reaching out to the counter to steady himself. “My beautiful, amazing, brilliant,” He wrapped his other arm around her, pressing his hook against her back to draw her flush to him again. “ _Wife_  is carrying our child.”

Emma couldn’t help the the giggle that bubbled out as Killian brought his forehead to

press against hers. The look of adoration in his eyes was enough to make her knees weak.

“And…” Killian pulled the word out long and dramatic like.  _“Flattering_  me with her bloody awful imitation.”

She laughed sharply, slapping his chest. “Says the drunk Han Solo wannabe.”

“Oi, that scruffy smuggler would be honored to have the likes of me carrying the mantle with such authenticity!”

Emma pulled the toy handle from his belt, holding it up. “Han Solo didn’t have a lightsaber.”

Killian grabbed it from her, triggering the spring button on the front. Blue plastic tubing shot out from the grey handle. “This one does.” He countered with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes, Emma shoved him towards the door. “Alright, come on Captain Solo. I wanna see that saber go up against my dad’s equally plastic sword.”

Tucking the toy against his armpit, Killian yanked open the door and swaggered out into the hallway. “Your father’s a bloody cheat, ya know.” He turned around, taking a moment to find his footing, and leveled an indignant look at her. “That man is  _already_  Prince Charming. Dressing as himself for All Hallow’s Eve is just bad form.” He pointed at her to emphasize his words, his eyes squinting slightly.

“Well go show him to respect good form then!” Emma urged, shoving at his shoulder to get him moving again. Only Killian held his ground, refusing to budge. Emma frowned, looking at him curiously.

He shook his head. “You’re not properly attired, Swan.” He waved his fingers towards the wig she’d been holding since he’d joined her in the bathroom. Reaching out, he took it from her and placed it atop her head, attempting to wiggle it on but failing. “Come love, help a one-handed smuggler out here.”

Emma took hold of wig, tucking her braid back under it and pulling it down over her hair as best she could. Killian fiddled with it, his tongue poking out thoughtfully for a moment. Then he smiled in satisfaction, tugging on a lock of grey hair that was falling over her eyes.

“Much better.” He nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss against her nose. Emma smiled lovingly for him, and he winked before stepping back and spinning about.

“Dave, I’ve been informed by a slovenly pirate lass that it’s time we duel!” He bellowed out towards the diner, thrusting out his plastic lightsaber as he moved back towards the party “As a professional, I’ll try to keep things sporting!”

Emma watched him swagger away, unable to keep the grin off her face. She couldn’t help but think of a similar pirate that has stumbled his way into her life, however briefly. She placed a hand on her belly, glancing down at the dirty tunic she wore.

He’d called his alternate self the worst parts, but in that moment Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she’d gotten the best of that side of him.


	6. A Little Lost Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another CSSV gift, this one for 2017.

She caught the first glimpses of it the night he moved in - starting with their bed, of all things.

Emma bounded up the stairs. “Okay, dad’s on sheriff duty for the rest of the night.” She kept her attention focused on her phone, typing out a text to Henry as made her way towards the bedroom. “And I ordered us some pizza. Should make for a good ‘move in’ night, finally…”

She stopped short just inside the doorway as she pocketed her phone. Killian was standing, staring at the bed, a well worn book clasped tightly in his hand. His lone chest of trinkets sat open on the dresser behind him.

“Everything okay?”

Killian flinched as if awakened from a daydream and looked at her abruptly. “Aye,” He offered her a tight smile, his voice a little rough. He looked back towards the bed and gestured with his hook to either side of it. “Which… uh… which side should I…”

Emma frowned at his obvious anxiousness. “Whatever side you want…” She watched as he nodded and then crossed over to the right side of the bed, gently laying the book on the nightstand. He ran a single finger down the fraying red spine before turning sharply on his heels and keeping his gaze firmly on the floor as he started to make his way back to the chest.

“Hey…” Emma slowly started to make her way towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, love.” His voice was as tight as his smile had been. He rooted around in the chest, clearly not looking for anything in particular.

She placed a hand on his arm, stilling his fidgeting. “You’re worked up about something.” His eyes hesitantly drifted upwards, meeting hers in the reflection of the mirror. She noticed his focus briefly shifted to the bed behind them before meeting hers again. “You don’t like it, do you? The bed?”

Killian shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what? The bedding? Because we can always change…” Emma felt a bit of her own anxiousness started to build up, thinking going ahead and choosing things for their house without talking to him first might have been a bad idea. “I just picked what seemed nice. But it’s your’s too, so if you want to look for something else-”

He turned towards her, taking her hand in his and shaking his head again. “Your choice of decor is lovely, Swan. Really. “ He offered a small, reassuring smile. It faded as he swallowed and closed his eyes, a flush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. “I’ve never had one quite so big before, is all.”

Emma felt the overwhelming urgency to please drain out of her and she visibly deflated where she stood. She glanced towards the bed and couldn’t help her eyes from widening a bit. “Oh.”

Killian opened his eyes to look at her, his face a mix of awe and embarrassment. “Aye. I know it’s a rather silly thing to marvel at, all things considered.” He tried to shrug it off but Emma shook her head and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

“No, it’s not.” She said firmly, sensing all that he wasn’t saying. He smiled, this one with a little more feeling behind it, and nodded.

“So you said something about pizza?” He pulled away from her, going to close the lid of his chest. And like that, the first glimpse was gone, faster than it had come.

—–

The shower brought it out next.

It had been an exhausting day for them both. Villain-chasing and monster-fighting had left them tired and dirty and aching. It was all Emma could do to toast a couple of packets of pop-tarts for dinner, and Killian’s lack of protest was a testament to his own exhaustion.

Still, when they’d found themselves curled up in bed, Emma just about to drift off in her mud-splattered blouse and jeans, Killian declared he needed to shower before he could go to sleep.

“Shower in the morning, babe.” Emma sighed. She tugged on his arm to try and get him to curl back up against her, but he was insistent about getting out of bed.

“Don’t want to get the linens all dirty.” He mumbled distractedly, already going about removing his own dirt-encrusted clothing. Emma flopped over in bed to watch him struggle in his exhaustion with the buttons on his waistcoat.  

“We can just wash the sheets in the morning, Killian.” She argued, pouting. “I just want to sleep right now.”

Killian looked at her sharply, a fire behind his eyes despite his clear lack of energy. “And you bloody well can, Swan. Sleep away in your own filth. I refuse to do it anymore!”

Emma blinked, slowly pushing herself up on her elbow to stare at him. His own blue-eyed gaze went wide, as if caught off guard by his own outburst, before shifting quickly to the floor. He shuffled in place, bringing his hand up to brush partway through his hair before it stopped and rested there. There was a vulnerable set to his shoulders as he finally spoke again. A glimpse of something small and lost.

“I’m sorry, love.” He sighed. “This is just something I need to do now, okay?”

Despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at her, Emma nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

He nodded back in response, still not meeting her gaze, and slowly made his way to the bathroom, back to unbuttoning his clothes as he went. The quiet click of the door shutting behind him was the only sound that filled the room. Emma stared at the closed door for a few minutes before pulling in a deep breath and getting out of bed, summoning enough energy to go about changing the sheets before she shucked her own clothes and made her own way to the bathroom.

—–

The kitchen brought it all bumbling to the surface one morning.

Because 4 A.M was much closer to morning than night than Emma would like.

But that was when she came stumbling downstairs to find her True Love hunched over the kitchen sink, scrubbing furiously at one of the corners with a clump of steel wool clutched in his fingers. A bottle of rum, one she’d known had been nearly full before going to bed, sat off the side, the amber liquid not even reaching up past the label anymore.

Emma felt her heart seize at the sight of him, illuminated only by the light over the stove. In the same way she’d sensed something was wrong and woken up, he could sense her standing there. He paused in his frantic cleaning and glanced at her with all the shame and embarrassment that radiated off his hunched form.

“Love, I-” His voice faltered and she watched as tears slipped free. And she could see it, clear as day, right then…

A lost little boy who didn’t matter and thought he never would.

She was across the kitchen in a heartbeat, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest and pressing her forehead to his.

Killian let out a shuddering sob, dropping the steel wool so he could bring his hand up to grasp at her arm. “I’m sorry.” He whispered through his tears.

“Don’t be.” Emma whispered back. She placed a soft kiss to his lips. “Not for any of it.” She pulled back, freeing one of her arms so she could brush the hair from his eyes. “I’m a fan of every part of you too.”

Killian managed a laugh despite the crying. “Even this mess?”

“Goes well with mine.” Emma shrugged, smiling self-deprecatingly.

Killian nodded and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. The melancholy quickly returned to him, his whole form seeming to shrink under the weight of it.

Emma tightened her hold on him, and he returned the gesture in kind, dropping his head to her shoulder. She turned and placed a kiss in his hair. “You can overcome anything too, you know? You’re not lost anymore, Killian. I promise.”

“It’s gonna take me some time to realize that, love.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Killian chuckled morosely and Emma felt his lips press a warm, teary kiss again her neck. “Still quite the team, you and I.”


	7. Hold Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble prompt: Hold Still

Emma jerked her hand back with a wince, pouting at the sharp pain that shot up what felt like her entire arm. 

“Bloody hell,” Killian muttered. He looped his hook around her wrist and used it to drag her hand back to rest atop his thigh. “Would you hold still? I can’t do this if you keep pulling away.”

She couldn’t stop her pout from growing as he zeroed in on her injury once more. “But it hurts.” She griped and then winced even before he had a chance to make another attempt.

Killian looked up at her long enough to give her an unimpressed look before returning his focus to the task at hand. He narrowed his eyes and licked at his bottom lip as he pressed the tip of the tweezers in his good hand against her finger. Emma whined and instinctively started to pull away again, but Killian held firm with his hook. “Swan, I swear to Zeus himself if you don’t stop…” Even in such a low tone, there was still a captain’s like command to his voice that simultaneously made Emma want to jump him right there in their bathroom and slap him upside the head. She opened her mouth to say something equally infuriating and arousing back, but all that came out was a gasp as he pinched harder with the tweezers.

“Got it!” He exclaimed, pulling out the minute piece of wood that had lodged itself inside her skin. She followed his hand with her eyes as he held the offending thing aloft to better see it in the light. “It’s not even that big.”

“It’s practically a log.” She glared at it with narrowed eyes, feeling none of the maturity of her thirty years. 

She could practically feel the way Killian rolled his eyes at her dramatics. “You’re an infant.” He sighed as he lowered the tweezers to wipe them against the inside of the trash can. The cause of all her pain for the past ten minutes fell to the bottom with the rest of the waste, never to cause her anguish again. 

Still, she felt her immaturity bubbling to the surface once more. And since the traitorous little branch wasn’t wedge in her finger anymore, Emma turned it on the man sitting on the edge of the tub next to her.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me just use my magic.”

Killian set the tweezers down on the edge of the tub behind him and then turned to give her another one of his ‘you’re being ridiculous’ looks. “Love, using magic to remove a splinter is absurd.”

“At least my finger wouldn’t hurt from you digging around in it.”

Blue eyes rolled for a second time (more like tenth since they’d started, but it wasn’t like Emma was counting), and then Killian turned his attention on her finger. He inspected it briefly before he brought it to his lips. His eyes slowly rose to find hers as he placed the gentlest of kisses against her wounded appendage. 

“Is that better?” He whispered softly.

Emma bit back a smile and tried to look as petulant as she had moments before. “Leaves a little to be desired…” She teased. 

He squinted at her briefly, acknowledging her cheekiness. He lowered her hand back to his lap and leaned forward, bringing his hand up to press against her cheek as he pressed her lips to hers. It was a brief, but strong kiss and it was all Emma could to keep her demeanor even remotely put out when he pulled away seconds later. 

“And how was that?” He murmured, the smallest bit of space between them.

She smiled the tiniest bit. “Definitely better…” He smiled back, an equally small and tender thing. “But my finger still hurts.” Emma couldn’t help herself from adding with a quick raise of her eyebrow. 

Killian growled softly and dropped his forehead to rest against her neck. “You’re an exasperating woman sometimes.”

Emma grinned. “And you love it.” She whispered knowingly into his hair. 

He nodded against her. “Bloody hell, do I ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr as [pirateherokillian](http://pirateherokillian.tumblr.com) and Twitter as [pirateherojones](http://twitter.com/pirateherojones)


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